


Living With Feelings

by pendragonfics



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Parent Nott (Critical Role), Protective Nott (Critical Role), Spoilers for Critical Role Season 2 Episodes 1-20, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: The reader travels alongside the Mighty Nein as they leave Zadash.





	1. To Forgive, To Love

**Author's Note:**

> i love my dirty wizard boy.

You knew you didn’t have to stick around, but there was nothing left for you in Zadash, ever since Beau and Fjord walked in on - saved you from your stepfather’s cruel intentions in the back of his store in the Pentamarket. Especially now since the Crowns’ Guards were moving to the border, and the motley crew of The Mighty Nein were making headway to Berleben on business for The Gentleman.

The first day of travel was the hardest; you’d never ridden a horse before, and by the end of the day, you were saddle-sore and sad, aching and somewhat regretful and afraid. What if you’d made the wrong choice, abandoning the city life? It had been horrible, so horrible before, but out here on the road, there was so much that could go wrong.

Before the next uneventful day of travel, you approached Jester for a poultice for your aching thighs. But instead of the remedies of herbs and medicine, you were raised upon, the adorable blue tiefling touched your nose and cast _cure wounds_. It felt like taking a bath in a once-warm tub of water, except…_not_.

“Thank you,” your words came out nervously. 

You instinctively go to touch where it doesn’t hurt anymore, but there isn’t any pain. You’re not used to your new clothes, and where you had been hurting is now well-hidden underneath the layers of your pants and pantaloons.

She glowed, poking her tongue playfully your way. “You’re very welcome, ________!” she replied, her thick accent mincing her pronunciation in a lovable way. “If you hurt more tonight, I can fix it again!”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” You thank her once more and mount Mollymauk’s horse for the second day in a row.

They were peculiar names, but Nott told you that they had lovely meanings that her people valued. While Mollymauk hitched Loo and took the cart, Jester on watch, the rest took to horseback. Fjord took time between walking beside and riding his stead, and Beau scouted ahead. Nott sat at the back of the cart, swinging her legs. However, the one who you were drawn to - Caleb - kept quiet.

It seemed he never spoke more than a few words.

You’d met him before the rest of the Nein; he had wandered into your stepfather’s bakery. In `, he’d asked to purchase a loaf of bread. While your stepmother had admonished him for not speaking Common while in the Empire, you replied in his tongue as soon as she was out of earshot. He hadn’t ever been the most mysterious face you had ever seen, but he sure was the most attractive one. You hadn’t noticed that he had slipped you an extra silver until he had left the store. You held the extra silver in your palm until it grew warm, and as you left the storefront, you held the coin tight, and it bit into your skin, hard.

It was one more silver than anything you’d ever had to yourself.

* * *

W.C. whinnied as your ankles spurred at his sides. The horse began to trot past the cart. As you were led to the front of the Nein, you watched as Beauregard looked you over, as if her monk-trained eyes could see through you.

“Have you ever left Zadash before?” Beau asked, raising a brow.

You swallowed thickly. While boisterous Jester seemed to get on well with her, you weren’t sure how to approach her, you were raised to be not heard, and not seen, and wished very much to be those things when she seemingly interrogated you.

“I - not that I remember,” you respond anxiously.

“Do you have a shitty memory, ________, or…?” Beau asked.

W.C. continued to trot alongside Crapper as you carded your fingers through his mane. It wasn’t the softest, and your fingers grew more and more caught as you pulled them through, but it soothed your wandering hands.

“My parents were forced to move to the city after our village was overtaken by Gnolls,” you reply. You add, almost an afterthought, “I was a baby.”

You noticed that Caleb had neared, his horse going between Beau and yourself without much instruction from the way he held the reigns. Silently, you thanked the Gods for Loo’s little intervention. There were few things you cared to talk about, and one of them was how you came to the city.

While Caleb smelt better, you noted that there were smears of dirt across his cheeks. You wondered if he did it on purpose, imagining Caleb sitting by the edge of the road with his fingers in the mud, applying it to himself just like nobility and their obsession with cosmetics.

“Why do you care so much for ________’s origins?” He asked, his accent thick. You glanced between the pair of them just in time to see Beau scowl at Caleb - not that her usual facial expressions were too dissimilar to that, anyway.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just really suspicious that they met us like, twice, and now are -,”

“I’m right here,” you spoke up.

“If you want to establish mutual trust between our new travelling companion, by extension do you wish to share to the group about your own background?” Mollymauk spoke up, the cart catching up to you three.

“Oh, fuck off,” Beau told him. She dug her heels into Crapper and went off to scout further along the path.

Molly shrugged and relaxed the pace of the cart to fall behind once again. You silently thanked the Gods once more, and the purple tiefling himself for his perfect timing. But aloud, you hummed and looked to Caleb.

Before you could add anything, he simply went to follow Beauregard, leaving you between the group like a stone stuck in a shoe. You glanced to Molly, but he wasn’t paying you any mind, instead, he was chatting idly with Jester. One person who did catch your eye was Nott. Her wide yellow eyes met yours and gave you a look that made you wonder if she knew something that would explain why Caleb acted the way he did. But she didn’t say a word.

* * *

You woke up too late, jostled from consciousness as you heard Caleb cry out in pain. By then, the horses - all tied to the cart for the night - were spooked and fled. It was horrible luck that you slept _atop _the cart rather than _beneath_, and as they ran off, you were carried away. But there was just enough time for you to notice that there were goblins - more than you’d ever seen in one place in your life! - and ogres and wolves and it frightened you to your bones.

In amongst the melee, you were stunned, and as the horses kept on going, you clamoured for the reigns, doing your best to try and lead them from harm. On one hand, you knew that the Mighty Nein was a travelling band of sellswords for coin and that they could handle the intrusion to the camp, but you felt a rush of fear thinking of Caleb, wounded.

You don’t know how long it took, there was no moon to see what hour of the night it was, but soon enough you had the horses calmed, and feeding on a saddlebag of oats. You couldn’t see fire the Nein lit at the camp from where you were the horses fled to, and it worried you a small amount. But it was no fear that compared to the fact that you were the lone protector of the horses and cart _and _the treasures and stores that the Nein had collected over their journeys.

There was a rustling in the bushes. Your blood froze, and without thinking, you picked up one of Nott’s daggers left at the front side of the cart and hid behind a wheel.

It was almost too dark to see, but there was a goblin there, no, two of them. They certainly did not look like Nott; they had broken teeth and one had a carving taken out of its body, smelling of fresh ichor. You kept still in your hiding spot, grasping the blade with two hands even though it only required one.

They chattered between themselves, until you heard more noises, and witnessed light growing nearer. The goblins scampered off, but you could hear, could see that they had a bag stuffed with things that you knew came from the cart.

Despite the fear, you felt a fury come over you, and stealthily, you followed suit. You almost didn’t get out of the way soon enough, dodging a spell cast to the fleeing goblins, as one was hit with magical orbs. As soon as they impacted, the goblin was no more - and it certainly smelled that way. But the one that was holding the bag kept on, and you did to, this time without the element of stealth in your favour.

The goblin turned, seeing you approaching. Its stride was no match for your human legs sprinting after it, and you threw yourself at it before it had a chance to reach for its own weapon. The bag was abandoned as it went to protect itself, but the dagger found itself buried in its chest, and again through its throat.

The Nein found you there sometime later, with bloodied hands and sick down your front. You don’t remember who helped you to your feet, or who sacrificed their canteen to clean you off, but soon you were in the cart once more, the horses and it led back to the fireside.

* * *

“I didn’t know they had it in them to -,” Fjord spoke, his accent was unmistakable through the haze of shock that shrouded your head. You still had it even though you had slept through to the dawn, and you couldn’t help but feel weak. “Those goblins almost got away with a pretty penny.”

You stirred at _pretty_, looking to the Nein, searching for one person.

“They’re awake!” Nott cried out.

“Where is Caleb? I heard -,”

Yasha stepped aside. You hadn’t thought of her as so large a woman, but as she did so, she revealed what was hidden behind her. In the light of day, you could see Jester beside Caleb, his face looking your way at the mention of his name.

“He’s going to be okay, don’t worry you guys,” Jester responded, and scowled. But the anger wasn’t becoming on her face. The emotion looked like she was a small child in a petulant mood, rather than being upset that the Nein had nearly been murdered in their sleep. “Did you see, ________? Molly killed a wolf that was sleeping!”

The purple tiefling sighed. “It’s out of its pain now.” He said. Perhaps he wasn’t fond of the attention that he was getting for the deed. 

“________,” Caleb spoke up. There was an element in his tone that you weren’t used to hearing, and it confused you, perhaps more so because of the wooziness you felt. “I heard - is it true? You -,”

You looked to your hands. Even though they were washed from the blood that you had spilled, you could almost feel it on your fingers, sticky and warm and grotesque. Never in your life had you ever killed something, apart from a cockroach or a stray spider from your bedroom. And yet -

“I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper, somewhat aghast. “It took -,”

“It’s all my fault,” Nott spoke up, climbing into the wagon. The words you were going to speak fell dead on your lips, and you listened to her. “I told those goblins to go after the cart. I didn’t know you were with it, and I didn’t think - I’m glad you’re okay - Caleb was _poisoned_, and I needed to even the odds for us.”

“Oh, Nott, it’s not your fault,” you touched her small green hand, meeting her yellow eyes. “All things considered.”

“Yeah, all things considered, ________ handled themselves pretty fucking well,” Beau interjected.

“You seem to be a warrior in the making,” Yasha spoke up, a small smile ghosting her lips.

You sit back, feeling another wave of dizziness wash over your thoughts. Even though you passed out after the kill, it seems that finally the adrenaline is ebbing away, and you’re left feeling as you usually do. Like a copper in a pot filled with gold and platinum.

* * *

Another day’s journey brings the next night, and tonight, you can see the storm approaching from the horizon as dusk falls. While the Nein make their preparations for the night, eating rations and storing things that shouldn’t get wet, you find yourself in proximity to Caleb as he murmurs an enchantment on Nott, to make her immune to the rain’s touch. As soon as he’s done, he catches your gaze.

“What is it?” you ask, feeling unsure. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Caleb blinks, “Funny, how?” His Zemnian mother tongue is thick tonight.

You take a deep breath, before elaborating. “I don’t know…it’s like whenever you look at me, you’re pitying me.”

“I don’t pity you,” he says quietly.

From somewhere far off, thunder crackles, and you feel a chill sweep your spine following a breeze. It has only been half a week on the road, travelling with this group, and you’re feeling both alien to their lifestyle, and yet, settling in comfortably.

“Then what, Caleb?” you ask, words soft so that none other can overhear you. “What do you feel when you look at me?”

“I - I wish I was you.” He replies.

For a startling moment, you know that he’s being completely honest. It takes you a second to comprehend; he’s a wizard, powerful in spellcasting and strong in his mind in ways that you can’t help to be. You’re just…a product of your breeding, passed between caretakers until you were no longer in the home of your own blood. And he -

“I have seen, no, I have _done _horrible things,” he says, “things that are sure to warrant me to never rest. I am not the man you think me to be, and yet, when I look at you, I see so much, I see -,” he catches his breath. “I see a person, so raw, so beautiful! So full of potential.”

You swallow, the lump in your throat refusing to leave. “I’m nothing of those things, I’m just - I’m just - _me_. ________.”

“You are ________, a warrior in the making. You slew a goblin none of us could, and in doing so, saved my very precious collection of paper and ink,” he reiterates. “You might not think you are a warrior, but -,”

“Is that why you gave me that silver piece?” you ask him.

Caleb chuckles, but it is quiet, almost under his breath. “No, _meine liebe_,” he says. “I thought you to be beautiful, and in more need of the coin than myself.” There’s a look in his eyes, and you can’t place it. But then you realise that he just called you those things. It all clicks into place, like a rusted metal puzzle toy. “If you don’t reciprocate -,”

“I do, I -,” the words don’t come out right, but it doesn’t mean you feel any less for Caleb. “I feel the same way you do. I’ve never felt this way before, forgive me.”

“I am an unforgivable man,” he replies, the words coming easily to him. “If all I am asked to overlook is your shyness, your hesitance, then I am not to forgive, but to love you even deeper.”


	2. Love You (For Everything That You Are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Along the road toward the swamp, Reader is swamped with questions from Nott, and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was requested by tumblr anon who wanted a part 2! I dont think i'll do another part after this.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

When you wake up, you find you’re curled into the warm side of Caleb. It’s a strange thing, because you swear that you fell asleep before him, away from him. However, a small part of you is wistful. _Happy_. The wizard man is snoring ever so slightly, his chapped lips left partly open, the stray hairs of his beard curling in the bristling cold of the morning.

But there’s shame in you, and it’s overpowering. You’re filled with regret and other ugly feelings in the lower portion of your belly.

Caleb said kind words, lovely words to you. Words that made your heartbeat faster. But you don’t deserve those words. They are alien to you. You’ve never had them before, and now you have them, it feels strange to receive. If you were a more affectionate person, you would have shown him, but alas, you are not, and now, you’re feeling almost sick in the storm of giddiness of your feelings for him.

Quietly, you sit up.

After the weather the night previous, it’s strange to perceive life going on afterwards. It felt so earth-shattering; perhaps it was because you had never spent a night in the elements. You certainly don’t remember at all in your life seeing a storm like that before. It was frightening, fantastic; you were glad for what magic that Caleb cast for keeping you safe and dry.

You stop feeling guilty for sleeping beside Caleb as you see the rest of the Nein’s sleeping arrangements. Nott is tied in a knot by Yasha’s ankles, a knife in little green hands, Jester lays between Yasha and Beau with her arms and legs askew, and Beau and Fjord are a tangle of limbs all over one another like puppies. You’re not sure if you’re seeing it right, but Molly’s head of horns are precariously close to Fjord’s ass.

As you move to stand, you feel a hand around your wrist, and you jerk away, heart racing. A fear races inside of you, and almost like there’s something _inside _of you, you feel a warmth take residence under your palms, beneath your fingernails. It fades as you realise who is holding your wrist.

Caleb’s eyes are hooded, perhaps barely awake in a way in which wrenches your heart. For a moment, you had been back in the rear room of the bakery in Zadash, your stepfather’s hands wrapped around your body, leaving nasty marks. But you fled him, and it’s just Caleb. Sleepy, soft, guarded and confusing Caleb.

“_Geh nicht_,” he said in Zemnian. _Don’t go_.

But you do.

Caleb closes his eyes softly, his grasp relaxing. He says your name, and a string of words you don’t understand in your mother tongue. But in the moment of your silence, Caleb has fallen once again to sleep, his grasp loose on you. And like the coward you are, you leave his side while the eyes of the Nein are closed, and adrift in dreams.

* * *

Later in the day, you find yourself perched beside Molly as he steers the cart. It’s your turn taking watch alongside him, and it’s quieter. Yasha walked ahead, her sword strapped to her rippling shoulders, glinting in the rising sun. Behind her, rode Fjord, and Beau, bickering about something you couldn’t quite hear about. Jester napped behind you, her hand on her amulet, and horse hitched alongside the others pulling the cart.

“Hey, um, ________, can I speak with you?”

You had almost forgotten that Nott was with Jester, and in the moment, you felt yourself afraid, for more than just being surprised. The other day’s attack came flooding back, and looking at Nott, the goblin girl, all you could see was the goblin you had chased down. That you had _killed_. 

“You startled me,” you placed a hand over your chest, to persuade your heart from racing. “Sorry. Of course; what do you want to talk about?”

She eyed Mollymauk, looking him up and down, and said, “Something he doesn’t need to hear. Go on, Molly. Get. Go talk to Fjord about being a bad roommate or something.”

“Nott, you sweet talker, you sure know the way to charm a tiefling’s heart,” he replied, his tone ironic, but face as sweet as a sugared roll. “________, take the wheel.”

Confused at his terminology, you took the reigns as he made leave, and Nott scrambled from the rear of the cart to where she sat. Steeling yourself as the driver, you lead the horses on, hoping what Nott would say wouldn’t make for too strange a conversation.

“I…” Nott began. She hung her head, bandages falling forward. “I need to apologise for the other night. I could have taken on that goblin, and knew you weren’t a fighter, and yet, it got away, and…”

You placed a hand atop her little green one, looking to her. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. What happened…it happened. I must have been a swordfighter in a past life, just like you must have been a caregiver.” You’re not sure if she flinched, or if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you add, softly, “Besides, I did what anyone would do. I saw it almost took your collection of sticks.”

“I _do_ like my sticks,” Nott replied. But softly, she spoke once more. “I have to ask, and I don’t mean to pry, but…”

“I suppose I’m one of you guys now,” you re-joined, “so ask away.”

She looked behind you, behind the cart, and briefly, you looked back too. Trailing the cart like a bottle tied to a cart after a wedding, rode Caleb. He looked to be deep in thought, his mind somewhere else from where his body was. Righting the cart around a stone in the road, you looked back to Nott, unsure of what she was implying.

After a moment with no words shared, she screwed up her nose, and shouted, in a hushed tone, “Well? What are your intentions with my son?”

You blinked. “Your son? I - I’m sorry, I thought -,”

“I’m not his mother in _that_ sense,” she answered, and quickly added on, “but the other sense like Beau and Fjord are basically brother and sister, and Yasha is basically the only one out of us all who has a functioning moral compass. But,” she paused, looking to you intently, “Caleb is _my_ boy, and I am asking you about your intentions toward him.”

“I…I think he’s a fine man?” you replied, unsure.

“Just fine? Look at him, he’s hot!”

“Yes, he is attractive. And I think he’s quite lovely too, once you get to know him.” You added.

“So…you like him?” she interrogated.

“I like him as much as I like you, and the rest of the Nein,” you answered. The way she looked at you after what you said made you feel unsure of the word. Where she came from, was there another meaning to that term? “I mean, he’s handsome, under all the dirt, and we speak the same language, and if it weren’t for him I’m sure I’d still be in Zadash.” You say, wistful. “…and he acts like he doesn’t care, but I know he does care because he showed me.”

“So! You _like_-like him,” Nott beamed, leaning toward you. “Well, I know for a fact that he _is_ available -,”

“Nott, wait,” you ask her, bewildered. “Are you trying to match us together?”

“Of course! You seem as fine a person as any. And he needs to focus on something other than his studies, you know what they say about someone who’s all work, no play, am I right? And I see how he looks at you -,”

“Nott,” you placed a hand on hers once more, pausing her. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not interested! Or want him at all, after all of this! You’re my last hope to get him a good person in his life, well, second-last, if Fjord opened his eyes and realised what a catch Caleb is!”

“Nott!” you say once more, a little louder. “I’m already…I kissed him last night.”

“You _WHAT_?”

* * *

Last-minute, it’s decided to make camp one more night before the Nein are to make it to the swamp. It’s a strange destination, but when you overhear Jester speaking to Fjord about The Gentleman you have enough wits to not question anything. It’s a clear night, and it seems that everyone is making their beds on the ground as usual. But you go for the cart once more, making a sort of nest out of what you can.

“Knock, knock,” he says, without raising a knuckle to the side of the cart.

His accent is thick tonight, and you feel your heart grow warm beneath your skin in his presence. Looking over, you see Caleb. His face is cleaner tonight, and it seems with every passing day, his beard grows thicker and thicker, as dishevelled as the ginger hair upon his head. He places his hands on the edge of the cart, looking to you.

“Come in,” you reply, scooting backwards. He joins you, groaning as his joins click as he sits beside you. “…you need to stretch, before and after the riding, and then it won’t pain you.”

“Oh, you have learnt so much since joining us, _meine liebe_,” he praises, but you know that he’s teasing you. “What else does your, er, multitudinous wisdom hold?”

You chuckle, resting your head upon his shoulder. “I know that Nott was ready to sell you off to me like jewellery in the Pentemarket,” you retort. “…she tried to match you with me.”

“She’s a little late on that,” he replies, his arm making its way across your shoulders. “…I feel as if Nott thinks herself as my mother.”

It feels strange being touched, but after everything, you ignore that feeling and welcome it. After all the shit that you were forced to wade in, you deserved to bathe yourself. You deserve to be loved and to love in return.

“She does indeed,” you snuggle in, speaking into his jacket. It needs to be cleaned, but amongst all the other smells, the scent is overpoweringly Caleb, and you relish it. “…and I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”

“Wasn’t it yesterday?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of time like you,” you shrug. “…whatever you have done, in your past, that is it. It’s passed. You are not your actions, especially if you regret them. My mother, my birth mother, she told me that as long as you know what is right, and do by it even after doing wrong, eventually, you will be absolved.”

“________,” Caleb starts to say, but you keep on speaking.

“And I will forgive you. And I will love you for everything that you are. Because not only did you help me realise that I was strong, strong enough to leave my abusive stepfather, strong enough to kill a thief, but that I was strong enough to move past it all, and become the person I have wanted to be for so many years.”

“________, I can’t ask that of you,” he says, soft.

“Don’t ask it of me then,” you reply, your lips ghosting his, and you whisper, the words hot against your tongue as they are spoken, “Because I am giving my love freely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon if ur reading this, hope u liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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